


What Doesn't Kill You

by mollyolly



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Post-Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollyolly/pseuds/mollyolly
Summary: Amy pats Rosa’s good shoulder awkwardly. “It’s really good to see you looking better, Rosa.”“Too bad to see you looking worse,” Rosa shoots back.“Yeah, well, my idiot partner got shot; I had a long night."In which Rosa is injured, Amy tries to be there for her, and Jake does his best not to piss either of them off. Loving insults are exchanged and feelings are had by all.





	1. Chapter 1

Rosa doesn’t feel any pain. She hears the gunshot, but doesn’t connect it right away with the sudden sensation of heat in her left arm. It’s not until she’s tackling her perp and moves to cuff him that she realizes her arm isn’t responding. Then she looks down sees the blood, so much blood she starts to feel queasy and she has just enough time to shout “Santiago!” before she starts to collapse.

When she sees Amy round the corner, Rosa stops fighting to stay upright and lets herself fall onto the perp in a daze. Rosa’s aware of Amy shouting as she pulls Rosa off the perp and secures him; but Rosa can’t quite process the words. She can’t tell whether Amy is talking to her or to the perp or into her radio, or all three.

Then Rosa is down on her back, and Amy’s face is floating over her, at once terrified and enraged. When Rosa registers the devastating pressure of both of Amy’s hands pressing hard directly onto what she’s finally realizing is a bullet wound in her arm, she lets out a guttural yell, because _now_ she feels the pain.

“Rosa, look at me. Look at me.” She tries to focus on Amy’s face but everything feels blurry and wrong and suddenly she feels very cold. She opens her mouth to try to say something, but instead she finds herself heaving, trying to turn her head so the vomit doesn’t get all over her. But it’s not just vomit she’s lying in now; it’s blood, a _lot_ of blood, and she’s trying to figure out how all that blood could have come from just a little nick to her arm.

“Amy?” she coughs out.

“Do not move,” Amy orders sharply. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes are steely, but when Rosa feels something wet dripping onto her face, she realizes it’s Amy’s tears.

“Don’t… be a baby,” Rosa whispers through chattering teeth.

“ _You_ don’t be a baby,” Amy snaps, “It’s just your arm and if you pass out from a graze to the arm, so help me…”

The challenge has the intended effect and Rosa keeps her eyes locked on Amy’s as she hears the sirens in the distance getting louder. She only feels herself start to drift when uniformed officers arrive on the scene and Amy briefly shifts her focus to give them orders.

When Amy turns back to her a few moments later and finds Rosa’s eyes closed, she barks “Goddamnit, Diaz, I told you not to be such a baby.” When that doesn’t rouse her, Amy half-sobs, “Rosa! Rosa, I told you to look at me. I outrank you now and that’s an order.”

Rosa’s eyes blink open. “Amy.” The fingers on her right hand twitch as she tries to grab Amy’s wrist. “Stay?” she whispers, too scared and fading too fast now for her pride to get in the way.

Amy nods her head rapidly, choked up, even though she’s a sergeant now and Rosa’s not even one of her officers and she should really stay on scene. Very little can induce Amy Santiago to throw protocol to the wind, but if Rosa needs her, then Rosa needs her, and that’s that.

As the paramedics arrive, Amy leans in and her lips brush Rosa’s ear as she whispers “I promise you I’m not leaving. I’m going with you,” before she steps back to let the paramedics take over and directs her attention to the officers arriving on scene.

**\--**

Just after they take Rosa back to surgery, Jake comes rushing in, and Amy’s whole body sags with relief when she sees him. He sweeps her immediately into a long, tight hug, so that when he finally pulls away a nontrivial amount of Rosa’s blood has transferred from Amy’s uniform to Jake. She can tell that he has been crying. “How is she?” he asks hoarsely.

“Um,” Amy’s chin trembles. “She was still conscious when they took her back. But, um… in shock. The paramedics said it must have damaged a blood vessel? Because the wound didn’t look that bad but there was a lot of blood.” Her face crumples up. “Jesus Jake, there was so much blood.” Amy finally starts to sob, burying her face in Jake’s chest. Her voice is small as she whispers, “Jake, she might not make it.”

Jake is crying too, but he reaches for Amy’s face with both his hands and says hoarsely, “Come on, Ames, it’s Rosa. She’s going to be fine and you know it.” But even he doesn’t sound convinced. “Look, let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

Amy glances down and for the first time registers how much blood is all over her hands and uniform. She nods numbly and lets Jake lead her to the family restroom down the hall. When Amy catches sight of herself in the mirror, she’s startled to see that her face is smeared with Rosa’s blood too. Jake starts undressing her and she absently thinks that here in this fluorescent-lit hospital bathroom, waiting for news of their maybe-dying friend, has to be the least sexy circumstances imaginable in which her husband could undress her.

Jake dumps Amy’s tie directly in the trash; unbuttons her uniform shirt and balls it up. When she removes the tank she’s wearing underneath, it goes with the tie in the trash. There’s even blood soaked into the cups of Amy’s bra, and after she unhooks it, Jake starts to toss that too. Then Amy suddenly comes back to herself and says “Jake, no! That cost seventy dollars.”

“ _Seventy_?” He gapes at her. “Wow, being a woman is _expensive_." He puts the bra with the uniform shirt to bring home, as Amy removes her duty belt and turns on the faucet. Jake wets a wad of paper towels and starts gently wiping the blood off of Amy’s neck and hair. He wants to kiss the exposed skin but it feels wrong, and when he starts to dab at the blood on her collarbone and she gently pushes him away, he knows he’s made the right call. Instead, he busies himself wiping the blood off her gear.

When the water in the sink finally runs clear and Amy’s dried herself as best she can with the thin paper towels from the dispenser, she turns to Jake and looks wordlessly down at her bare breasts and then back up at him. He shrugs off his jacket and pulls his button-down over his head, handing it to her. “Thanks,” she says quietly, pulling it on.

Amy tucks Jake’s wrinkled checked shirt into her uniform pants and refastens her duty belt, while Jake pulls his jacket back on. Then he reaches for her hand. Under other circumstances, Amy would frown on such an open display of affection while they’re on the job, but this time she takes his hand, clinging to Jake like a lifeline as he pulls open the door and they head back out to face whatever’s coming next.

**\--**

Rosa comes to slowly. She can sense the bright lights through still-closed eyes, and there’s beeping, and the smell of disinfectant, and intense pain in her left arm. Hospital, she concludes. She’s been injured. She feels warm but gentle pressure on her right hand and turns toward it, blinking sluggishly. It’s Amy, she realizes, and her mounting anxiety ramps down a notch.

“Hey,” Rosa croaks out. Her throat feels dry and hoarse.

Amy’s head snaps up. “Rosa! Oh my god, Rosa.” Amy squeezes Rosa’s hand tighter and lets out a relieved sob.

Rosa tries to lift an eyebrow but she’s so exhausted even that takes effort. “I told you… not to be such a baby.”

Amy smiles a big, wide, real smile through her tears. “I do not care _at all_. You’re okay.”

“Course I am. You know me.”

“Yeah, well, it was dicey there for a while. Your artery.”

Rosa’s a little taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It was bad, Rosa.”

“Oh. Am I… _am_ I okay?” Rosa asks uncertainly, trying to take inventory of her body.

“Amazingly, yeah. It just missed the bone; no other major damage.” Tears glisten on Amy’s lashes. “You were really lucky, Rosa.”

Rosa closes her eyes again. “Not feeling real lucky right now.”

“I know, babe,” Amy says. Realizing just a moment too late who she’s talking to, Amy hurries on, hoping Rosa’s too groggy to notice the slip. “Are you in a lot of pain? How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Okay, like I got shot.” She blinks up at Amy. “What the hell happened?”

“Everything’s okay.  Don’t worry about that now.”

“Did they get away? Was anyone else hurt?”

“No and no, but Jesus, Rosa, don’t pull hero antics like that again. It’s not worth it.”

Rosa sighs in relief and closes her eyes. “How long has it been?”

“Not long. It happened this morning and it’s like eight now. The whole squad is outside waiting to see you if you’re up to it.”

Rosa glowers. “Can’t they just wait until I’m back at work?”

“You know they can’t. If you’re really not up to it it’s okay, but don’t try to be tough-guy Rosa about this. Everyone’s been really worried about you.”

Rosa nods slightly. “Fine. But Amy,” she suddenly looks genuinely anxious, “Just for a minute, okay? I’m tired.”

“Of course.”

**\--**

“She’s awake!” Jake shouts, looking up from his phone, and a tired cheer breaks out among the squad.

His phone chimes again. “Ok, Amy says we can all go see her, but just for a minute and to keep it super low key. Got that, everyone?” He looks pointedly at Terry. “That means no crying, Sarge.”

“No crying,” Terry agrees, scrunching up his face.

“I will not cast a healing spell _in the room_ ,” Gina announces magnanimously, “although it’s really her loss, and I make no promises about what I do on my own time.”

“Good enough!” Jake accepts.

Charles holds up his hands “No recipes for healing foods. No _suggestions_ , even.”

“That’s the spirit.” Jake points at Hitchcock and Scully: “You two had better just not say anything.”

“Probably best,” Hitchcock agrees, and Scully nods along with him.

“And no big showy displays of emotion from you, Captain.”

“Noted.”

But it’s Jake who has to work hardest to tamp down his reaction when he leads the squad into Rosa’s room. Pale and exhausted against the stark hospital sheets, stripped of her leather armor and bravado, she looks unsettlingly vulnerable.

“Hey Rosa,” he says, “Try not to get shot next time, okay?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she slurs, and he feels almost dizzy with the relief that washes over him at the reassuring sound of Rosa’s sarcasm.

**\--**

“I think we’ll discharge you later today as long as you have someone to take you home and take care of the wound,” the resident glances over at Jake. “Boyfriend?”

“Ew. Gross. No. He can take me home though.” She doesn’t ask it like a question but looks to Jake for confirmation.

“Yeah, yeah, of course”

“Okay. I’ll have one of the nurses come by a little later to show him how to change the dressing.”

Rosa looks skeptical. “Yeah, maybe we should have Amy do that. She is a _much_ cleaner person than you,” she tells Jake.

“Good call,” Jake agrees cheerfully.

Amy arrives not long after. She looks exhausted and her eyes are puffy, but she glows with a genuine smile when she sees Rosa sitting up and ribbing Jake like her usual self. When Amy finally left the night before, Rosa had still been weak and groggy from surgery and blood loss.

She pats Rosa’s good shoulder awkwardly. “It’s really good to see you looking better, Rosa.”

“Too bad to see you looking worse,” Rosa shoots back.

“Yeah, well, my idiot partner got shot; I had a long night. Seriously, how are you feeling?”

“Better,” Rosa shrugs. “Hurts like a bitch but at least I can think straight now.”

“I’m sure they could up your pain meds.”

Rosa shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good. I’d rather be alert.”

“Okay. But if you change your mind…”

“If I change my mind I know what to do.”

“Right, right, sorry. And I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I haven’t been pack to the precinct since it happened and the paperwork alone...”

Rosa smirks. “Upside of getting shot: you have to do all the paperwork. Shoulda done this ages ago.”

Amy laughs breathily, trying to sound breezy but not quite succeeding. “I wouldn’t even put it past you, Diaz.” She removes the tote bag she’s been carrying and deposits it on the end of the bed. “I brought you some clothes to wear home. Everything you had on yesterday was totaled. I’m sorry; I know you loved that jacket.”

“Whatever, they’re just clothes. Thanks, man.”

“Oh, hey!” Jake cuts in “Doesn’t Amy need to see the nurses so they can show her how to style your wound?”

They both raise their eyebrows at him, comically in sync. “Dress it, you mean?”

“Sure, whatever, that’s what I said.”

“Nah,” Rosa says, “I can walk her through it. I went to med school, remember?”

“You _did_?” Jake gapes.

Rosa looks at Amy. “Huh. Thought you’d’ve told him.”

“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I tell him _every_ thing. Sleuth Sisters gotta stick together.”

“Okay, I feel like I missed something,” Jake says

“Don’t worry about it,” Rosa and Amy say simultaneously.

“Can we go back to the part where you went to med school, though? _When_?”

“You know, that’s exactly what Amy said.”

“I’ve gotta run,” Amy tells Rosa apologetically, ignoring Jake, “I’ll come check on you tonight.”

“I don’t need you to check on me.”

“See you tonight!” Amy shouts over her shoulder as she disappears down the hallway.

“So, um.” Jake picks up Amy’s tote bag. “Do you… need help getting dressed? Do you want me to call one of the nurses?”

Rosa just glares.

“So… no?”

“Gimme that,” she says, holding her hand out for the bag. She dumps it out and finds a pair of Amy’s loose sweatpants, one of Jake’s zip-up hoodies, a package of plain black underwear, and a pair of drugstore flip flops. Although she’s a little suspicious of how Amy knows her shoe size, Rosa feels a rush of gratitude for Amy’s obsessive need to overthink everything. These are clothes she’s pretty sure she can actually get on.

She’s able to wriggle her way into the bottoms using only her good hand, while Jake looks studiously out the window, but when it comes to the tie on her hospital gown she’s stuck. She has to reach behind her to untie it or else pull it over her head, and her arm hurts too much to do either.

“Jake,” she barks, “Come get this off me.” Visibly nervous, he stands behind her and undoes the gown, giving the bandage on her arm wide berth as he carefully pulls the gown off and eases the sleeve of the hoodie up over it. He turns away to let her finish herself, but she calls him back. “Jake! Zipper.”

“Right. Duh. Two hands,” he says, and comes around to her front. He fits the ends together and pulls it up as far as her belly button before she swats him away with her good hand and takes over herself.

“Any closer and I cut those hands off.”

“... _And_ there she is!”

\--

When Amy knocks that night, Rosa comes to the door with her left arm in a sling over a long, flowing sleeveless nightgown. Amy tries not to stare, wondering which version of Rosa saw fit to buy something like that and when. Instead, she thrusts out the takeout bag she’s carrying “I brought you dinner.”

“Thanks,” Rosa says after a beat. Amy continues to stand there. “Do you… want to come in?”

Amy shakes herself and steps forward, shutting the door behind her. “Yes! Yes, I’m here for whatever you need. But dinner first. Couch or table?”

“Table’s easier with one hand.”

“Right, of course.” Amy busies herself finding plates and silverware. Rosa starts to reach for the wine glasses, but Amy shoots her a disapproving look. “No mixing booze with your pain meds.”

Rosa rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, which is either a good sign or a bad sign, but Amy has no idea how to tell which. Instead, she fills the largest glass she can find with water and pushes it toward Rosa. “Hydrate!” She instructs brightly.

When Rosa’s done eating-- or, more accurately, picking listlessly at everything Amy puts in front of her-- and Amy’s washing up, she asks Rosa “What else can I do for you while I’m here?”

“Nothing. You don’t need to be here at all. I told you I’m good.”

“Rosa, you were _shot_.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever. This isn’t poison oak gauze paws, you really do need to take it easy so you can get better. What do you need; how can I help?”

“Okay, actually, yeah. I’m still all gross but I’m supposed to keep my arm dry till tomorrow and I can’t get it covered myself.”

Amy hums sympathetically. “Of course; I should have thought of that. You’re going to feel so much better after a shower.”

After she’s wrapped up Rosa’s arm as gently as she can in a dish towel and then plastic, and Rosa’s slammed the bathroom door in her face, Amy finds herself at loose ends, rattling around the apartment. If it were anywhere else she would straighten up, but Rosa’s home is as immaculate as always. She unfolds and refolds the throw on the back of the couch, and straightens the Home & Garden magazine on the coffee table so it’s at perfect right angles and curses the irreproachable homemaker version of Rosa for denying her the opportunity to stress-clean.

Restless, Amy takes out her phone to text Jake.

 **Amy:** This place is freakishly clean. Not your doing, I assume?

 **Jake:** lol

 **Jake:** she probably had to clean up after me after I left, tbh

 **Jake:** maybe the surgical precision she picked up in MED SCHOOL???

 **Jake:** i can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that

 **Amy:** Honestly I never even know when she’s being serious and when she’s trying to throw us off the trail. She also claimed to have a pilot’s license.

 **Jake:** oh no that’s for realz! She took me up in a two-seater to celebrate after we finished at the academy

 **Amy:** WHAT?! I can’t believe you didn’t tell ME!

 **Amy:** What if everything she’s ever told us about her past is true???

 **Jake:** not humanly possible.

 **Amy:** You never know; this is Rosa we’re talking about.

Just then, Amy hears an alarming crash from the bathroom, and she drops her phone and dashes to the bathroom. Rosa’s on the floor of the shower with her head between her knees, pressed up against the wall to keep her arm out of the spray, wet and shivering. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Got dizzy.” Rosa’s voice is strained and she doesn’t lift her head.

“Oh, Rosa”. Amy turns off the water and grabs the towel from the rack, draping it around Rosa’s hunched shoulders, as she kneels down to her eye level.

Rosa startles at the contact, looking up to meet Amy’s worried eyes and then recoiling. “Don’t look at me like that!” she snaps. Her eyes are filling with hot, angry tears. “I just got shot, okay? I got a little dizzy in the shower. It doesn’t make me weak.”

“Rosa, honey, _no one_ thinks that.”

“Then why are you calling me _honey_ like I’m someone’s feeble old grandma?”

“Because you’re my friend and I love you and I’m worried about you.”

“Well stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“Rosa, you almost _died_.”  Amy’s eyes are pleading and suddenly it’s all more than Rosa can take.

“Fuck off; you think I don’t know that?” Her voice cracks, and to her horror, Rosa feels a flood of tears building behind her eyes. She’s not going to be able to stop it, and she’s too shaky to get back on her feet and make a hasty exit, and here she is literally naked and weeping in front of another human being and she has never felt so humiliated in her entire life.

The next thing she knows, she is somehow in Amy’s arms, sobbing heaving, messy sobs into her shoulder. Amy rubs her back and makes shushing noises. “Let it out. You’re okay, let it out.”

The more Rosa sobs, the more exposed she feels. But Amy’s arms are so comforting and she feels so physically awful and overwhelmed that eventually she just lets go, lets herself cry all the tears she’s been holding back and then some.

When Rosa finally comes back to herself and starts to catch her breath, it slowly occurs to her that she and Amy are huddled on the floor of a wet shower. Amy’s still wearing a pantsuit that is now completely soaked through, and she is naked and shivering inside her towel. When Rosa’s shuddering sighs finally turn to sniffles and her breath starts to even out, Amy seems to come back to herself, too.

“Do you want to finish showering?” she asks simply.

Rosa shakes her head and sniffs. “I just wanna lie down.”

“Are you sure? You might feel better. And there’s still, um, some blood in your hair.” Amy reaches out and pushes back some of Rosa’s hair, slightly damp from the spray but not really wet.

Rosa shakes her head again. “Later.”

“I can help you if you need--”

“Amy.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

A few minutes later, Rosa’s in fresh, dry clothes, curled up on her side in bed, staring blankly at the wall. Amy, now changed into a pair of Rosa’s leggings and one of her t-shirts, bustles around, cluttering Rosa’s nightstands with everything she could possibly need overnight.

After a detour to the kitchen, Amy returns with with a full water bottle in one hand and Rosa’s prescription bottles in the other. She sets down the antibiotics, but hesitates at the heft of the bottle of painkillers. She examines the bottle suspiciously; reads the label; counts the pills; checks the label again. “Rosa, have you even been _taking_ the painkillers?”

“Don’t need ‘em.”

“Have you considered that the reason you almost fainted in the shower just now might be because of uncontrolled pain from a day-old gunshot wound?”

“I’m controlling it,” she snaps.

Amy softens a little. “Look, it’s your call. But there’s nothing to prove here. There’s no badass medal for putting yourself through extra pain for no reason.”

Rosa shakes her head. “That’s not it.”

Amy wrinkles her forehead. “What is it then?”

Rosa looks pained. “I just don’t like feeling foggy, okay? Since prison. And this whole almost dying thing has brought up a whole lot of that shit for me, so just back the hell off.”

“Oh, Rosa.”

“Don’t ‘oh Rosa’ me. I’ve had enough of you and Jake hovering; I just need some time alone to feel like myself again. So come back tomorrow night to help with the dressing or whatever, but until then just leave me the hell alone so I can at least try to feel normal for a minute.”

Amy looks a little hurt, somewhat skeptical, and a lot worried but after a beat she just nods. “Okay. Call if you need anything before then, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest, Rosa.”

**\--**

“Do you think we should have made her stay with us?” Jake asks, staring up at the ceiling in bed that night.

“Jake, it’s Rosa,” Amy says simply. She hasn’t told him about the shower incident or its aftermath; she feels like she owes Rosa at least that much. “No one can make her do anything.”

“Okay, solid point. I’m just, you know, worried about her.”

Amy sighs. “Well, always have a backup plan… I _might_ have made a copy of her keys before she was discharged.” She reaches into her nightstand drawer and pulls out a shiny new set of keys, dangling them triumphantly above their heads.

Jake turned to look at her, eyes wide.  “You are a _very_ brave woman.”

Amy’s bravado is over as quickly as it began. “I’m worried about her, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Amy knocks a third time, feeling a ball of anxiety start to take root in the pit of her stomach. “Rosa!” she shouts, knocking again. Nothing. Finally, hoping that Rosa isn’t going to ambush her—or hunt her down for it later—Amy pulls the shiny new set of keys out of her purse.

It takes a few minutes to figure out which keys go to which locks— there are three— but Amy’s relieved to find Rosa didn’t slide the dead bolt. Amy enters cautiously, one hand going instinctively to her holster. “Rosa?”

She glances around the living room. There’s a light on, a blanket pooled on the couch, and mug of half-drunk tea sitting on the coffee table. Other than that, nothing seems out of place. Amy draws her gun. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Rosa?” Amy says again, as she starts easing her way down the short hall. She clears the bathroom, resisting her suddenly piqued curiosity about what Rosa keeps in her medicine cabinets.

Increasingly uneasy, Amy pushes the bedroom door open “Rosa?”

“Shit, Rosa,” she breathes, holstering her weapon and moving lightening-quick over to the bed. There’s no intruder. It’s just Rosa, huddled under the covers, pale and still.

Rosa looks up blearily as Amy puts a hand to her hot forehead. “Santiago?” she croaks, confused.

The concern is written all over Amy’s face. “Rosa, how long has this been going on? Why didn’t you call?”

Rosa tries to orient herself in time but can’t quite manage. “I dunno,” she says honestly, meeting Amy's eyes. Amy’s breath catches when she identifies the look in Rosa’s eyes. Rosa looks scared.

“Let me see your arm,” Amy orders, and Rosa doesn’t move but also doesn’t protest when Amy pushes back the covers to look. But she winces sharply when Amy’s fingers brush the hot, inflamed skin near the dressing.

“Okay,” Amy says, trying to keep her voice calm, “We need to get you back to the hospital right now. Do you think you can get up or should I call an ambulance?”

A flicker of Rosa’s usual self flashes across her features. “I can get up. It’s fine.”

Amy looks skeptical, but reaches out a hand to help Rosa out of bed. Rosa is shaky but makes it to her feet, shuddering violently as her burning skin is exposed to the cool air. Amy tries not to react when she realizes Rosa is completely naked but she doesn’t think she does a very good job.

“Let’s just find you something to wear,” she says evenly. She finds Jake’s zip-up hoodie and her own sweats discarded on the chair from the day before, and guides Rosa into them. When Amy realizes that Rosa’s arm is too sore and her hands shaking too badly to manage the zipper, she is so distracted by worry that she barely reacts to the slightly surreal experience of zipping her husband’s sweatshirt directly over Rosa’s bare breasts.

Instead, she wraps an arm around Rosa’s waist and prepares for the long descent down the stairs.

\---

 **Amy** : We’re back at the hospital. Her wound is infected.

 **Jake:** shit

 **Jake:** She ok?

 **Amy:** She was really sick. I don’t know how it happened that fast.

 **Jake:** on my way

 **Amy:** Hold on; they’re about to let me back. Let me see what she wants.

 **Amy:** She says don’t come. She’s not up to it.

 **Amy:** She’s ok though.

 **Amy:** I think she doesn’t like anyone to see her like this.

 **Jake:** is it just Rosa being rosa tho?

 **Amy:** Probably, but she’s pretty out of it anyway. No point in you not sleeping tonight.

 **Jake:** ok. but you’re staying tho right?

 **Amy:** Yeah I’m staying.

 **Jake:** ok good

\---

When Rosa wakes a few hours later, the now-familiar sensation of Amy's hand holding hers mutes the panic that starts to rise in her chest as she tries to remember where she is and how she got there. Amy's dozing in the chair beside the bed, but Rosa squeezes back with all the pressure she can muster, which isn’t much. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Amy breathes, blinking herself to wakefulness. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You should go home and get some sleep, Santiago.”

“I’m not leaving you this time.” Amy says simply.

Rosa makes an effort to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t have the energy to argue. And whether she’d ever admit it or not, she doesn’t really want Amy to go. “Come get in bed then. You’ve gotta sleep too.”

Amy looks simultaneously panicked and skeptical. “Is that even allowed?”

“Don’t be such an Amy,” Rosa sighs with affectionate irritation. “Anyway, I’m freezing,” she admits quietly, “and all your nervous energy must produce body heat. Seriously. Come get in here,” Rosa holds up the blanket and shifts to make room in the narrow hospital bed.

“Uh… oh—okay. If that’s what you want.” Amy kicks off her shoes and removes her very rumpled suit jacket. Gingerly, she climbs into bed next to Rosa, trying not to touch her.

“Just chill out, dummy,” Rosa mumbles sleepily. She burrows into Amy, trying to maximize the points of contact between them. When Amy feels Rosa shaking against her and registers how almost unbearably hot Rosa's skin feels against her own, her awkwardness dissipates a little and she relaxes into Rosa, patting her leg.

“You’re warm. I knew it. I’m always right,” Rosa murmurs, already drifting off again.

\---

They’re both asleep when Jake arrives the next morning, bearing coffee for Amy and tea for Rosa. Rosa is the first to sense his presence; she shifts slightly and then grunts with pain when she forgets herself and moves her injured arm. Her movement wakes Amy and after a moment they both turn to look at him.

“Hey,” Rosa says groggily.

“Hey.” He considers reaching out to touch her, but she’s still tangled up with Amy and he thinks better of it. “How are you feeling?”

Rosa scowls. “I’m fine.”

“Which is why you’re here?” Amy asks skeptically, then reaches over to feel Rosa’s forehead. Rosa swats her away, but not before Amy happily announces “No fever.”

“See, I told you I’m fine,” Rosa grumbles.

Jake plops himself down in the chair by the bed. Amy sits up and reaches for the coffee while Jake holds out the other cup to Rosa. “Rose hip tea? Supposed to be anti-inflammatory. And well. You were inflamed. Your arm, not your hip, but close enough.”

She shrugs, then winces. She’s got to stop forgetting to keep her arm still. She slouches back against the pillow. “Maybe later. My stomach’s still feeling kinda weird after everything.”

Amy tuts disapprovingly. “You have to stay hydrated.”

“Yeah, that’s why I got this setup.” Rosa indicates the IV coming out of her arm.

“Well, you won’t when they discharge you.” She turns to Jake. “The resident said this morning if her temperature stays down and the wound looks okay they’ll be able to send her back home today.”

“No fever and my gaping gunshot wound looks _great_. I’ll be outta here.”

“Your wound might look great, but you look terrible,” Jake tells her cheerfully. He’s more unsettled than he’s willing to let on by her persistent pallor, the dark bruises under her eyes, the faint tremble in her hands.

“Whatever, dude, I got shot.”

“You did! Which is why you should come stay with me and Amy. Just till the wound’s closed and you can use your arm again.”

Rosa scowls. “Gross. No.”

Amy turns to face her. “Rosa, please. Look what happened last time.”

“You only have one bedroom.”

“This is New York City!” Jake protests, "We're not billionaires. You can sleep with Amy and I’ll take the couch.”

“What, you think we need you to be chivalrous or some shit?” Rosa growls. He sees Amy’s eyes narrow too and realizes he’s made a mistake.

“Uh…. I’ll take the bed and you two can both sleep on the floor?”

“Jake, she was just shot!”

“I know! And I thought I’d rather volunteer myself for couch duty than you, especially since you two seem to have the sleeping together thing already figured out.”

“Title of your sex tape!” Amy exclaims proudly.

“You two are really not selling this ‘staying with you,’ thing.”

It’s just then that Rosa’s surgeon sweeps in, residents in tow. “Well, good thing they don’t have to sell it, because if you're not going home with your friends I’m not discharging you. Because I do _not_ want to see you back here again, Officer.”

“It’s Detective,” Rosa grumbles.

“Well, here it’s ‘patient,’” the doctor says brightly, "And you can either be a patient patient here with us until that wound heals, or let these nice people take you home and look after you.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” She smirks at Jake. “Thanks for your bed. And your wife.”

—

“You ever think about prison?” Rosa asks Jake the next night. Amy’s still at work, and the two of them are taking advantage of her absence by sprawling on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table eating pizza without plates. Rosa really wants a beer, but she gave in and took her pain meds earlier and Jake, stupid irresponsible Jake, has turned out to be as much of a stickler as Amy about mixing meds and booze. He’s even drinking orange soda himself in solidarity.

“Oh god yes, all the time. Do you?”

She shrugs. “I try not to.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

“Not great. You get jumped in there, ever?” she asks, making an effort to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah," he says simply.

“Me too. A lot, at least in the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There was this one time I thought maybe I was actually going to die. And I was fine, obviously, just a little roughed up, and then I got thrown in solitary for a while where no one bothered me. But for a while there, I really thought they were gonna kill me. And since I got shot I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Flashbacks?”

“Not exactly. I used to get legit flashbacks more; this is different. It’s just, like... the feeling. Of being scared.”

He turns and looks at her, studies her face. She looks open, earnest. “You get scared?” He asks, and it almost sounds like a joke, but she can tell it’s not, at least not entirely.

“What the fuck dude, of course I get scared. I’m not a robot. I have feelings.”

“I was scared shitless in prison but I always felt like at least I didn’t have to be scared for you.”

“Yeah, well, I was scared for both of us.”

He looks at her seriously again. “Hey, I’m sorry. I should have realized how hard it was hard on you, too. I just thought…”

“Everybody thought.” She cuts him off. “Whatever, it’s fine. Except…” she grimaces a little, bracing herself. “I _keep_ feeling scared now. When I got shot I was scared I was going to die, and my arm still fucking _hurts_ and it's this constant reminder me of all those times I got my ass handed to me in prison and, I was scared and lonely trying to deal with a concussions or busted ribs or whatever without looking weak and making it worse. And it _really_ scares me that I can’t use my arm right now, because I can’t protect myself.” Rosa looks away, immediately embarrassed. She’s already regretting saying so much; she feels more exposed now than she did naked on the floor of her bathroom weeping into Amy’s arms.

Jake puts one of her hands over hers, and she doesn’t pull away. “I get it,” he says simply. “I’m scared all the goddamn time. Don’t tell Amy.”

“Rest assured.”

“But you know you’re safe now, right? And not alone. I’m here for you, Amy’s here for you; the whole squad is here for you. And you’re currently staying with two of the NYPD’s finest detectives, so you don’t need to protect yourself, because we’re here.”

Rosa shrugs, blinking back a few tears. “I know,” she says gruffly. “But being alone is important to me too, especially after solitary, you know?”

Jake considers. “Honestly, no. I’m even more afraid of being alone with myself than I used to be. Different for you?”

“Yeah. Solitary’s such a trip because you’re in there all by yourself, but you know you’re being watched and anyone could walk in at any time. What’s good is being alone when you know you’re _really_ alone.”

“Yeah, that actually sounds _worse_.”

“Nah, it’s pretty dope. You should try it sometime. After I got back, I tricked out my panic room. Pillows and blankets and scented candles and shit. Super soothing. Spent a lot of time in there.”

“Like a fort!”

“Totally like a fort, dude.”

He looks at her, and she looks back. After all these years, it’s not hard to know when they’re thinking the same thing at the same time. “Jake and Rosa build a fort!” they shout simultaneously.

\--

When Amy comes home, the house is such a wreck that at first her chest tightens and she’s worried something has happened to them. The sofa cushions are all gone, the furniture’s been moved around, and the table-- now pushed against the wall-- is covered in… wait,  is that a _blanket fort_? Under her dining room table?

She marches over and pulls one of the blankets to the side. Inside she finds Jake and Rosa sitting side by side in the dark little cave with their backs against the wall. They look up at her, looking like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Literally: Rosa has an Oreo halfway to her mouth, Jake is eating a pint of ice cream, and there are gummy bears scattered on the floor between them.

“What the hell going on in here?”

“We’re processing our prison trauma!” Jake announces almost gleefully. Amy closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Her house is a wreck, and Jake and Rosa are behaving like actual children, and probably permanently embedding corn syrup and crumbs into the carpet. But Rosa is looking more like herself Amy’s seen her since the shooting, and she’s been trying forever to get Jake to open up about prison. After a long moment, she replaces the blanket. “Carry on.”

\--

Later that night, lying side by side in in bed, Amy turns to face Rosa. “Hey, I’m glad you and Jake talked. I… I never knew how to talk to you about prison and so I just didn’t and… I’m sorry. It was easier to tell myself you’re so tough that you couldn’t have been struggling and I just-- I’m sorry for not being there for you the way you’ve always been there for me.”

Rosa brushes her off. “You were there. When I dumped Pimento, when I came out… not everything has to be all touchy-feely. I know you've got my back.”

Amy wants to accept this, wants to absolve herself of the guilt, but she can’t let herself off the hook quite that easily. “Yeah, but I should have been there for you even when there wasn't a crisis. I should have realized how hard it must have been for you. I didn’t and I’m sorry and I want to do better.”

Rosa considers. “Okay, whatever. But you’re here now. Like, annoyingly here.”

“It shouldn’t have taken you almost getting killed and physically needing help for me to realize you might sometimes have feelings, too.”

“Well, now you know, and my reputation is ruined forever, so you’re welcome, I guess.”

Amy reaches for Rosa’s hand under the covers, and grasps it gently. “Hey, I love you.”

Rosa squeezes back. “I love you too, man.”


End file.
